Brown-Eyed Girl
by TereseLucy384
Summary: Gilligan spends a lazy morning down at the lagoon, thinking thoughts about his favorite brown-eyed girl. Let's see if you're singing by the end of this little one-shot.


_**A/N -** I decided it would probably be a good idea to put a disclaimer at the beginning of this story. I do not own any of the Gilligan Island characters, and I do not own Van Morrison and/or Brown Eyed Girl. As I listened and sang along to this song on the car ride to visit my mom (who fell and broke her arm .) I got to thinking about MaryAnn's big brown eyes and how they would affect her mighty sailor man. I basically wrote it in my head during the car rides there and back - so when I got home, I put it down. Hope you like it - hope you sing along :D_

* * *

On a beautiful Tuesday morning in late May, 1967, William Gilligan sat on a log at the water's edge, tapping his foot and bopping his head to the music on his transistor radio. He was reeling in an empty hook, having lost his third worm that morning.

He wasn't frustrated, though . . . far from it. The castaways had an adequate supply of food stored away. He was fishing more for the fun of it.

The waterfall across from him was spilling vibrantly into the lagoon, the morning sun was shining brilliantly into his face making him squint his eyes, and the light breeze carried a delicious scent of the Hawaiian wildflowers growing in abundance in the jungle behind him. In fact, if he had bothered at all to consider his current situation, he would have found himself to be as happy as he had ever been.

WLBR, Gilligan's current favorite radio station, was just finishing up a half-hour tribute to The Mosquitoes, his favorite band.

"_This is Bertram Butterworth with WLBR, and that wraps up the Mosquitoes tribute this morning. In recent news, Irving Patterson, the drummer for the Mosquitoes, is getting married next month. His new bride is hoping to honeymoon in Hawaii – although our sources inform us that he is resisting the tropical trip."_

Gilligan glanced at the radio with a grin. Having met Irving and the other Mosquitoes two years ago, he was trying to imagine the shy Irving getting married. _But then again_, he thought, _I never figured I'd have a girlfriend like MaryAnn_. He smiled proudly as he put a new worm on his hook and cast his line into the water.

The radio announcer continued. _"Listen up, all you crazy cats out there. Here's an up-and-coming new artist who's about to spin your world. Van Morrison with a little ditty called "Brown-Eyed Girl"._

Gilligan perked up. _"Brown-Eyed Girl?"_ he thought. _Sounds like MaryAnn. _ He looked at the radio, almost as if he could see the young new star emerging. He enjoyed the instrumental beginning, but when the lyrics started, he dropped his fishing pole into the softly-lapping waves. He knelt in the sand and picked up the radio.

"_Hey, were did we go,_

_Days when the rains came_

_Down in the hollow_

_Playin' a new game,_

_Laughing and a running, hey, hey_

_Skipping and a jumping_

_In the misty morning fog with_

_Our hearts a thumpin' and you_

_My brown eyed girl,_

_You my brown-eyed girl_

Gilligan smiled. Leaning back against the log, he absent-mindedly pulled his fishing pole back up next to him. Then he rested his arms across his knees and pictured himself laughing and running and skipping and jumping with MaryAnn, then walking in the thick steamy fog on the trail to the "hot tub". With a smile on his face, he knew how she got his heart a-thumping.

The next verse got even better.

_Whatever happened _

_To Tuesday and so slow_

_Going down the old mine_

_With a transistor radio_

_Standing in the sunlight laughing_

_Hiding behind a rainbow's wall,_

_Slipping and sliding,_

_All along the waterfall with you_

_My brown eyed girl,_

_You my brown eyed girl_

Gilligan chuckled. The line "going down the old mine" reminded him of the long nights mining in Mr. Howell's gold mine.

But then . . . that phrase "rainbow's wall" – that sounded so pretty. He remembered a day not too long ago, when it was drizzling out. He and MaryAnn were running to get the laundry off the line before it got too wet, and they got caught in a downpour. It stopped almost as fast as it had started. He remembered looking at MaryAnn, who was all glistening with raindrops and as the sun poked out behind her, she suddenly seemed to be engulfed in a rainbow.

He couldn't even count the times they had strolled by the waterfall holding hands . . . nor could he count how many times he had slipped and slid through the mud by the stream, making MaryAnn laugh.

He liked the chorus, and found himself singing along with it quite easily.

But the third verse made him a bit sad. Apparently, the guy in the song doesn't get to keep his brown-eyed girl and seems to be looking back at the memories.

_So hard to find my way,_

_Now that I'm all on my own._

_I saw you just the other day,_

_My how you have grown,_

_Cast my memory back there, Lord_

_Sometimes I'm overcome thinking 'bout_

_Making love in the green grass_

_Behind the stadium with you_

_My brown eyed girl_

_You my brown eyed girl._

Then back to the chorus. As Gilligan sang along with _sha la la la la_, he found himself overcome, too. Thinking about MaryAnn . . . _her brown eyes . . . that special smile she has – just for him . . . _

He hoped that he would get to keep the girl. He thought of going home to Pennsylvania and her to Kansas. It made his heart ache.

And then that line . . . _making love in the green grass_ . . . He looked around as if to see if the birds and monkeys could see him blushing.

Gilligan set the radio down as the song ended. With his arms around his knees, he rested his chin on them and sighed.

"_This is Bertram Butterworth with WLBR, and that was Van Morrison with Brown-Eyed Girl. Stay tuned for some more hits coming your way, right after these words from our sponsor."_

The radio started playing a jingle for a laundry detergent. Gilligan scowled at the radio. How long would he have to wait to hear that song again? There were so many words and lines in that song that made him think of her.

Crossing his ankles, he grabbed his fishing pole with one hand and the radio with the other, and spun himself up into a standing position.

Resting his pole onto his shoulder, he found himself singing _sha la la la la la la la la la te da_ as he strolled through the jungle, hoping to run into his very own brown-eyed girl.


End file.
